


The Sea of Stars

by MrKevKev



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Death, Drama, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirate AU, Plot, Slavery, Slow Build, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrKevKev/pseuds/MrKevKev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about two infamous pirates and their time together at sea after a ship battle leaves one the captive slave of the other. Junkrat is the heart, soul, and demolitionist of the Bloody Bomber; The ship rumored to have once taken down an entire steel fortress using just its unique explosives. Mako is the gruesome, and fearsome, captain of Shark Head; The ship rumored to have destroyed an entire fleet by itself and, for one week, painted the ocean a bloody red. The sea is a dangerous place, with many more hostile infamous ships to discover, but Mako believes it is worth it... If not to simply discover the Sea of Stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bloody Bomber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, there was a ship named the Bloody Bomber...

The wood shatters like glass as each hit devastates the ship. Splinters slice across his face, but it only causes Junkrat to work faster. Harder. Bloody Bomber won’t be sinking today, not under Junkrat’s watch.

“Rat, I need another one!”

“I’m working on it!” Junkrat snaps back at the voice above him, eyes still glued onto the small object he was fiddling with in his hands. Junkrat’s position is in the port side weaponry room, just under the main deck of the ship. Dimly lit and loud… _Very loud_. The stomping of footsteps above him resonates particularly well in this room, each step sounding like its own mini explosion.

Junkrat’s fingers dip into the jar positioned next to him, becoming sticky and dark. Quickly, he begins to rub the cannonball over with the tar-like mixture. 

“Rat!”

“Fuck! It ain’t finished yet!”

Junkrat reaches to his side and grabs a wire with his right hand, while the other begins searching for the incision in the, now tar-covered, cannonball he holds in his left. Fuck. Where was it? The weaponry room is dark, indeed, but there should be an indent… A sign to be felt somewhere on the cannonball. Did he forget to carve one in near the incision? No… It can’t be. Junkrat closes his eyes, furrows his brow, and focuses. He drowns out the screaming, the stomping, everything. All attention is on the little nerves in his left human thumb, feeling for the slightest imperfection in the sphere he’s holding. For a moment, it is silent.

A whistling noise pierces through the air, and Junkrat braces. Incoming…

“RAT!”

Junkrat’s eyes shoot open. The shattering of wood drowns out the screaming of the men above him as the cannonball rips through the ship. It was a strike on starboard to Junkrat’s relief, meaning his port side weaponry room still lies safe for the time being. Well, for the _very short_ time being that is. A low groaning sound suddenly resonates throughout his room and he can feel his balance give way. Bloody Bomber is tearing apart, and the sounds it makes were akin to a booming scream in pain. A begging and pleading to be released from the torment that is a cannonball ripping away the muscles and flesh and veins of the ship itself.

Junkrat’s thumb halts abruptly. Found it. Quickly, he jams the wire into the incision and pushes deep to ensure the connection. A smirk grows on his face and his eyes light up in preparation for what is to come.

“Capt’!” Junkrat screams upwards towards the deck. “Capt’!”

No response. Junkrat freezes. Something isn’t right. Something is missing. The sound of the wood splitting, the incoherent noise of metal pans and objects smashing into each other, the sound of… Wait. Where was it? Where’s the sound of the _footsteps_?

Junkrat immediately sprints towards the opposite end of the weaponry room where a hatch awaits, connecting the room with the outside deck. Flinging it open, he cusses as the sudden impact of sunlight pierces his eyes.

“Capt’!” Junkrat screams into the open air, squinting into the sunlight above him. “Capt’, it’s ready!”

No reply.

Junkrat huffs and looks down and around the room for anything to prop himself up as he considers climbing up to the deck. Wooden chairs, wooden tables, wooden shelves… Everything he sees is either warped or completely shattered and covered in splinters as a result of collisions from the ship’s monstrous swaying. It would be no use. Perhaps he could try jumping, perhaps he could—

Something catches his eye. What is that? In the center of the room’s floor is a dark, gray circle. A shadow. A small, miniscule shadow that slowly is engulfing the room. So… Very… Slowly. And Junkrat, just as slow, begins to raise his head upwards towards the hatch. Something is beginning to block the sunlight, and with a deep breath paired with a hesitant tone, one too quiet to possibly be heard over the splitting of the ship, Junkrat asks a question.

“Capt’?”

However, it was not the captain. Junkrat realized this, perhaps a second too late, as the metal weapon crashed into Bloody Bomber. This time, it was port side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ^-^ )/ Ahoy! I'm KevKev.
> 
> Thanks for reading the first chapter of The Sea of Stars. It's short, I know, but it will get much more lengthy as the chapters unfold. This is my first fanfic for AO3 and the Overwatch fandom, and I'm extremely excited! I'm still a bit new to everything, and I noticed a lot of people have a tumblr so here's one I made for my writings on AO3: kevkevwritings. Please feel free to comment and chat with me! I'd love to hear your thoughts as this progresses.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the ride together, and hopefully you don't get sea-sick :)


	2. The Shark Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever heard of the Pirate Auditions? Junkrat has, and he's a contestant. 
> 
> Let's see how this game plays out.

Cold, wet, but wood. Junkrat’s ears are ringing and his head feels too dizzy and too light… But he is on wood. He is not being ripped apart in the ocean by sea creatures, and he is not drowning. The Bloody Bomber in one piece. A miracle. Coughing and spitting out water, Junkrat begins to return to life when his eyes focus on a strange sight.

A man is standing on a plank that juts off of the ship. Junkrat blinks and notices that he recognizes this man as one of his own crew members. What was his name again? Charles the Chef? Perhaps. Good guy… Made horrible food, but good guy nonetheless. Junkrat focuses his eyes more as he feels his cold body slowly coming back to life, the blood beginning to pump once again. He notices Charles’ hands are tied behind his back.

Wait a minute.

A sharp, pointy blade is touching his back and Junkrat sees blood begin to trickle down as the blade digs into the skin. Charles’ mouth opens, but no sound comes out as Junkrat’s ears continue to ring, not ready to process sound yet.

Wait…

The blade digs deeper, more blood gushes out and Charles’ knees begin to visibly shake. He is at the end of the plank. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Charles’ head spins around and Junkrat sees his mouth moving at a rapid pace, but he hears nothing. Charles’ eyes are red, tears visibly running down his cheeks. Begging, pleading, what is Charles doing? Why is Charles doing this? What is happ—

Charles jumps.

Junkrat’s eyes widen, and his body rushes back to life as he opens his mouth to scream for Charles. Blood begins rushing back into Junkrat’s ears and suddenly sound begins pouring in… Except Junkrat wishes now that it wouldn’t. He can hear again, he can hear everything. _Everything._ The screaming, the body hitting the water below him, and the bones… The bones snapping.

Junkrat’s eyes close and he tries to shut off the sounds, but it won’t stop. He can hear the rapid, tumultuous splashing of the water as sea creatures begin fighting each other for their share of flesh. Fresh meat, fresh bones, fresh blood. It drives the creatures crazy. Junkrat eyes squeeze tight as he focuses on his breathing, but nothing can stop the sound of that screaming. It is blood curdling, and would halt every few seconds before continuing again… Weaker. Junkrat knows what’s happening, and he hates that he does. The creatures are pulling at Charles’ legs, dragging him underneath the water but Charles must be kicking. Kicking so hard, kicking for his life but it is no use. Junkrat knows that, Charles must know that, everyone knows. It’s one of the most common pirate sayings, that “ _once the damned ocean touches your skin, pray for your sins, prepare for the death fins_.”

The screaming stops. The splashing continues. Junkrat loses his stomach.

“Next, you.”

Junkrat eyes look up wearily and that’s when he notices that everything is wrong. Cold, wet, but this is not Bloody Bomber’s wood. No, this wood is stained dark red with blood. The mast is too short and too thick. The deck is uneven and Junkrat notices a plethora of angry, sharp edges that jut out everywhere from the wood. Junkrat feels his stomach drop as he looks up and stares at the foreign flag above him. It is no longer the familiar, silver flag with a large, skull-like bomb in the center that he was so used to seeing every day. Now, the flag above him is colored with a dark blue background with the center sporting a menacing looking white shark face, red blood dripping from its teeth. This is not the Bloody Bomber, this is…

“I said, _you_.”

Junkrat looks down from the threatening flag above him and notices that he is in a kneeling position, hands tied behind his back, along with two other men to his left in a similar position. The three of them are in a line formation, looking like a bloody execution just waiting to happen. Junkrat realizes that he recognizes both men, both crew members on the Bloody Bomber. The leftmost man (well, more like boy) is Rin. A recent pickup from a pit stop a few weeks ago. He couldn’t be more than twenty years old. Short, thin, brown hair and too-blue-to-be-true eyes, Junkrat remembered seeing Rin sobbing in front of the captain as he told the story of how he ran away from home to escape abuse, and has been on the streets ever since. The captain, remaining still for too long of a time after Rin story, finally reached over and rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder before nodding. Junkrat will never forget the glow on Rin’s face as he looked up, tears still streaming from his eyes, and heard the captain explain that he could work on the Bloody Bomber as a cleaning boy. Rin, incapable of containing his excitement, then leaped into the captain’s body for an embrace and, to Junkrat’s surprise, the captain embraced the boy back.

Now, that same boy is trembling as a man with a red bandana over his mouth stands over him. The man is holding the same sharp blade that dug into Charles’ back, and now has it pointed at Rin’s head.

“R… Rin.” The boy whispers quietly, head down but visibly shaking.

“Okay, _Rin_ … Why should you live?” The man above Rin has dangerous eyes and a smooth, toying voice. The way he says Rin’s name sends a shiver down Junkrat’s spine.

“I… I…” Rin entire body seems to be vibrating, causing his voice to come out as sad, humiliating, staccato squeaks.

“Speak up, boy!”

Junkrat could see Rin holding back tears, biting his lower lip and squeezing his eyes.

“I don’t want to die.”

The ship is quiet. The bandana man stares deeply into Rin for a few seconds before drawing the weapon away from the boy’s head. Suddenly, laughter fills the air. Loud, masculine, pounding laughter from what must be a hundred men. Junkrat’s eyes dart to the other side of the ship and his heart drops to his stomach as he sees a horde of men standing on the second floor of the deck. Hundreds… Hundreds of men standing and roaring in laughter at Rin’s response. These men must be the crew of the ship, standing on the balcony like some privileged theatre audience, with the captives as the entertainment.

“You don’t want to die!?” The bandana man hollered in front of Rin, holding his sides in laughter. “Hey, hey boy! Did you know the sky is blue? Did you know that clouds are white? What else is new!”

Rin is silent.

“Pathetic,” the bandana man continues as the laughter begins to die off. “Absolutely fucking pathetic. The Bloody, _fucking_ , Bomber hiring some weak boy to do God knows what!” A small moment of silence fills the air as the man sighs before continuing in a mumbled manner, “But, whatever. Maybe you can clean the floors of something.”

The man turns his head towards the horde. “Captain!” He shouts, and the entire horde looks at one man. One… _Humongous_ … Man. Junkrat’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight. A belly that could probably fit Junkrat’s entire body in it and then some, fists that could crush a man’s skull like an empty can, Junkrat could feel the fear seeping into his bloodstream just by looking at this… This monster. His face, however, catches Junkrat’s attention. Well, the lack of his face that is. The man’s head is obscured by a large, white shark-head mask. Judging from the slightly bloodied bottoms of the mask, it is likely a home-made mask created from a real shark. Stuffed and with a bandana on the top of the mask, Junkrat can’t help but think of how silly the mask looked. Although, Junkrat admits to himself, it does give off a certain air of… Fear. Cold, deadly fear.

Suddenly, the behemoth begins to shift his weight as he slowly extends his hand into a fist in front of him. The ship is silent. The thumb of the fist begins to stick out, and Junkrat gulps as he suddenly realizes the situation he is in.

“The Pirate Auditions,” Junkrat whispers to himself.

A common pirate act to play out. After a battle at sea, the winning ship may decide to take captives. The captain will then let a captive beg for his life, give a plea as to why this captive should live, and then the captain decides the fate with a move of a thumb. Thumbs up for life under the new flag of the winning ship, thumbs down for the plank leading to a life in the bottom of the ocean.

The thumb remains still in the air, horizontal to the horizon. Junkrat can feel his heart beating and sweat begin to roll down his forehead. He holds his breath, and assumes Rin is doing the same.

The thumb is beginning to move. Junkrat can’t make out the direction well, but squints to try anyways. It’s moving… It’s moving…

Oh no.

“Well, that’s too bad Rin!” The bandana man booms with an obvious smile behind the red fabric, “Thumbs. Down.” Men in the crowd begin to hoot and holler at the prospect of another death, cheering at the captain’s decision. Junkrat cusses underneath his breath, and looks back at Rin with a sorry look. He sees Rin’s face turn pale, eyes beginning to panic. Rin’s mouth is trembling, as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

Suddenly, a loud voice pierces the air.

“Don’t kill him, you monster!” A rough, deep voice screams. The ship goes silent again.

Junkrat’s eyes widen and he turns to face the older gentlemen in between Rin and himself, the middle captive who is also kneeling down in the line. Gray hair, a wide and chisled face, a strong yet aged body… It is Kesad, the right hand man of the Bloody Bomber. The man who is rumored to have memorized the entire sky. The man who is rumored to have led the Bloody Bomber into a tempest and out without a single repair needed afterwards. The captain looks to Kesad for navigational and strategical battlefield advice, and Kesad has always delivered.

“Excuse me?” The man in the bandana raises his weapon and slowly places it near Kesad’s throat. “Well, well, well. Loud mouth, aren’t ‘cha?”

“Don’t hurt the boy,” Kesad says slowly, low and threatening.

“And who the fuck asked you?” The bandana man snaps back and begins digging the blade into Kesad’s throat. Kesad grits his teeth, but never lets go of his gaze.

Low mumbling begins to fill the air from the audience, and Junkrat can guess why. Kesad is strong. His deep, dark eyes practically scream out that he is an intelligent, knowledgeable, and a useful man. It would be a shame to kill Kesad, Junkrat knows that and it seems that everyone else in the audience does as well.

“Kesad…” Rin whispers, eyes growing wet at the prospect of tears. “Don’t.”

Kesad doesn’t look at Rin, but keeps his gaze at the man wielding the weapon in front of him.

“Keep the boy alive,” Kesad commands, making sure to enunciate each word loud and clear for the entire audience to hear. “I have taught the boy. I have taught him about the sky.”

Rin’s face begins to distort into a confused, worried expression.

“I have taught him all I know.”

Tears begin to stream from Rin’s face.

“He is my apprentice.”

Rin is sobbing.

“And,” Kesad pauses. “I refuse to work for this ship.”

…

Silence.

No one moves.

No one breathes.

A death sentence has been spoken.

Junkrat drops his head, unable to continue staring at Kesad and what he has just spoken. There is a second part to the Pirate Auditions, Junkrat remembers, which is the will to live and work. If a captive receives a thumbs up from the captain for life, the captive may still deny the decision. If a captive wishes to deny, all the captive is required to do is state that they refuse to work. A death sentence, no questions asked, and no take backs. A right given to the captives that are given a thumbs up due to their muscle, strength, intelligence… But who refuse to work for a different flag. A last stand of loyalty for their sunken ship.

The blade at Kesad’s throat begins drawing more blood as it pushes deeper in.

“Fool,” the man wielding the weapon angrily says in a low tone. He turns to look at Rin, “Is what this man said true?”

Rin eyes begin to panic as he searches Kesad’s face for an answer. Kesad, for the first time, turns his face towards Rin and stares deeply into the boy’s eyes.

“Yes.” Rin says low, tears still streaming from his face. “It is… True.”

Kesad smiles.

The bandana man turns to look at the captain, whose thumb is now horizontal in the horizon once again. A second decision, a second chance due to additional information. Junkrat grits his teeth. He knows, he knows that Kesad has lied. A lie to allow Rin to seem more important, more useful than he truly is. Then, in addition, the refusal to work to seal the deal… To pressure the captain into scavenging whatever usefulness is left from the loss of Kesad by allowing Rin to live.

The thumb is pointing to the sky.

“The boy lives,” the bandana man says to himself. “Well, what a surprise.”

Kesad stares deeply into Rin’s watery eyes, never letting go of his gaze nor his smile. Even when the blade digs into the throat, even when blood begins spewing out at a high angle towards the sky, even when Kesad’s eyes begin to fade away. The blade digs deeper, deeper, but Kesad keeps his smile.

Finally, with a quick push of force followed by a horrific noise, the blade is stabbed to the back of Kesad’s throat.

Rin screams.

The bandana man spits on the dead man in front of him before beginning to kick the body towards the plank. Junkrat winces at the sound of each kick connecting to the now deceased body. The man takes his time, enjoying each kick until Kesad’s body is at the end of the plank. With one final large push of the foot, the body falls off of the plank’s side and into the deep water below. A certain two noises fill the air again… The splashing of water. The snapping of bones.

Junkrat heaves. Rin is pulled to his feet before pushed towards the horde of men on the balcony. Rin joins them before turning around to stare back at Junkrat, a worried expression painted on his face. Junkrat is the final person left on the center deck. The final entertainment. The final act.

It’s Junkrat’s turn now.

“You.” The familiar smooth, dangerous, voice begins. “What’s your na—”

“Fuck off, mate.” Junkrat growls lowly, eyes at the floor. A sudden kick lands on his side, and Junkrat cusses underneath his breath.

“Don’t fuck with me!” The bandana man growls lowly. “You’re weak. Skinny too. You better have a good plea.”

Junkrat raises his head and slowly turns to stare at the horde of men watching, at the captain in the shark head mask, at Rin’s tear-stained face. Junkrat closes his eyes and then remembers Kesad’s smile. He takes a deep breath.

“I refuse.” Junkrat whispers. The ship is silent, but a single small gasp is heard from the horde. Junkrat turns his head away from the crowd. _I’m sorry, Rin._

“… What?”

“I said… I refuse to work for this God-damned ship!” Junkrat screamed back, increasing the intensity as his blood begins to boil and a scowl appears on his lips. Junkrat turns his gaze away from the man in the bandana to the captain, eyeing the dark glass on that stupid shark mask. “You hear that, Sharkie!? You stupid masked piece of—”

A blade on Junkrat’s throat shuts him up, but not for long. Junkrat quickly dips down to escape the blade’s touch and, crouching his body even lower, shoots himself upwards to head-butt the man in front of him. Junkrat leaps to his feet before facing the horde.

“Fuck you!” Junkrat screams. “I could take all of you worthless bags of meat… Untie me!”

A blade suddenly slices Junkrat’s left leg and he falls to his knees with a yelp. The bandana man grabs a hold of Junkrat’s hair, pulls his head back, and places the blade on his throat. Junkrat is squirming beneath the blade digging into his throat when a loud boom freezes his body. From the horde of men, the captain is moving.

Moving directly towards him.

Each footstep on the wooden floor is loud, horrific, demanding… Each footstep a mini explosion. Everyone is still, everyone is holding their breath. The blade at Junkrat’s throat is pulled back, but the bandana man begins chuckling.

“This will be good.” He says under his breath, backing away from Junkrat.

Junkrat’s eyes widen as the captain begins to approach. Junkrat takes a closer look at the behemoth in front of him and notices the large, threatening black tattoo of a skull on the captain’s stomach. Junkrat gulps. Slowly, the captain reaches to his side and pulls out a shotgun.

Junkrat’s heart stops.

“W-Wait a second mate!” Junkrat begins, stammering as he feels his heart pounding heavily as the shotgun barrel is pointed directly at his face. Bandana man begins cackling as the horde of men behind the captain begin murmuring in excitement.

“Use the shotgun!” One man suddenly shouts from the crowd.

“Blow his face off!” Another man hollers.

“Blow his brains out!” Another.

“Junkrat!” … Rin.

The shotgun clicks and Junkrat holds his breath and closes his eyes.

_I’m sorry, Bloody Bomber. I have failed you._

…

**_BOOM._ **

…

Junkrat’s ears ring as he falls deaf. He feels nothing. Is this death? Calm, deafless, painless, death? A sudden feeling of warmth presses itself on his body, and Junkrat remembers his captain. His captain was a true man, a leader. The warmth reminds Junkrat of the captain’s rare, however honest, hugs. A warm embrace that symbolizes an emotion of care.

Blood trickles down from his chest. Ah, so still alive. Not dead, as he can still feel this blood and this damned cold, damned wet, _damned_ wood beneath his knees… Wait a minute. He can feel things? Then…

Why can he not feel the pain?

Junkrat opens his eyes and looks down. The bandana man was on top of Junkrat, a hole in his chest where the shotgun shot into. Blood dripping into Junkrat’s body as his skin touched the man’s inner flesh. With a sudden scream as reality begins coming back to Junkrat, he tosses the body off of himself and stares wide-eyed at the shark-headed monster in front of him.

“You… You shot him?” Junkrat’s voice, trembling in shock, asks.

A grunt from the captain is heard. Junkrat pauses and waits patiently, expecting a vocal response but coming to terms quickly with the unlikeliness of that.

“Why?” Junkrat finally asks.

The captain continues to stare at Junkrat intently, its unseen gaze burning into him like the rays of the sun. A few moments pass before suddenly, a colossal, deep laughter booms out from the captain. Junkrat leans backwards, confused by the sudden laughter. He looks at the horde and sees their faces confused as well. Slowly, members in the audience begin forcing out an awkward laugh to follow the captain’s notion. Junkrat scowls and feels a foul taste forming in his mouth.

_Peasants. They’re all dumb, brainless following peasants._

“You’re Junkrat.”

Junkrat’s eyes widen at the timbre of the captain’s voice. The mask distorts it, Junkrat is sure, however he is still surprised at the deepness of it. Everything about this man, this _monster_ , is substantial.

A murmur starts to resonate throughout the crowd. Junkrat hears his name whispered. Tossed around like some interesting toy.

“Yeah,” Junkrat wiggles his nose before glaring back up at the shark mask, trying to not let his fear be seen through his eyes or heard through his voice. God, was he scared. “I’m Junkrat. What’s it to ya?”

The captain, keeping his gaze on Junkrat, raises a hand and points at the horde. Junkrat follows the pointed finger, but notices that the crowd as well are all displaying a confused expression.

“What is this… You mute, mate?” Junkrat asks, beginning to get sick of the cryptic games this captain is playing.

A low growl is heard from the captain, and Junkrat backs off instantly. The captain then whips his head towards the horde before barking, “Say it!” at the crowd. Junkrat could practically see the entire crowd jump simultaneously at the command.

It takes a few more awkward seconds of still silence before one man finally walks to the front of the second-floor deck. He is visibly nervous, fidgeting his fingers, but manages to speak somewhat coherently.

“Junkrat,” the man starts. His eyes keep darting back and forth between Junkrat and the captain. “The heart and soul of the Bloody Bomber—the ship rumored to have melted steel fortresses with just its unique set of explosives… There is a saying regarding the Bloody Bomber, that…” The man pauses for a second, thinking intently before continuing with the rhyme:

“ _When you hear the Bloody Bomber’s cannon go boom… Close your eyes, there is no escape from the doom._ ”

The nervous man, keeping his head down, slowly backs back into the crowd of men. The captain returns his gaze back towards Junkrat.

“The captain of the Bloody Bomber.”

Junkrat grit his teeth before coldly replying, “I’m not the captain, you probably murdered him already… You fat piece of lard!” Junkrat could feel every man’s breath halt at the insult. He notices the captain’s massive fist clench, but a chuckle begins to erupt from the captain’s chest.

“Stupid boy,” he finally replies. “The Bloody Bomber is nothing without you.”

“The Bloody Bomber is an entire ship!” Junkrat snaps back, “Newsflash Sharkhead, it isn’t run by just one man! It takes a crew, a whole—”

“The Bloody Bomber has its name because of you!” The captain roars, closing in on Junkrat until the tip of the mask is touching Junkrat’s brow. Junkrat’s blood freezes in fear, ironic as he can feel the hot breath of the captain seeping through the slits in the shark mask. “The Bloody Bomber is feared… Because. Of. You.”

The captain backs slightly, looking behind Junkrat at the ocean before chuckling again. That devious, deadly chuckle. “Your captain was weak, anyways. Didn’t survive the ship wreck. He became food for the fishes.”

Junkrat clenches his fist and grits his teeth, remembering the captain’s final moments… Asking, begging Junkrat for the next cannonball. If only he was quicker… If only he—

“You’ll create bombs for us now,” the captain’s voice booms, bringing Junkrat out of the memory. The voice is demanding. The sentence is a statement… A command.

“I already said I refused,” Junkrat says calmly, “I’d rather die in the waters than work fo—”

The captain suddenly reaches in and, with just his thumb and first finger, picks Junkrat up by the neck. Junkrat yelps but a small squeeze closes the air flow. The captain examines the squirming Junkrat intently, starting from the tips of his blonde hair to his angry, dirty face to his skinny, malnourished chest. He notices Junkrat’s wooden right peg of a leg and the, likely self-made, prosthetic right arm. With an amused grunt, one probably due to the thought of Junkrat carelessly blowing his right side off with his own bombs, the captain drops him.

Junkrat coughs and heaves as air enters his lungs again.

“You can’t…” Junkrat begins to say in between breaths, “Take me… I said… I refuse to work.”

“We kill the ones who refuse to work,” the captain says with a slow nod, “but you’re too important.”

“I—”

“If you don’t work, you can be used for… Other things too.”

Junkrat furrows his brow at the threat. Certain members in the crowd begin snickering. Junkrat, ignoring the laughter, tries to read the shark mask for any hint of what the threat might entail. Damn that mask.

“Do you know who I am?” The captain says in a low tone, barely audible yet somehow still just as fearsome.

Junkrat squints his eyes, gathers some saliva into his mouth, and spits directly into the mask.

“Fuck you, Sharkie.”

Junkrat could feel the entire audience hold their breath, stunned at the action. The captain, however, doesn't move even a single muscle. He keeps his gaze on Junkrat before turning and slowly walking back towards the balcony.

“I am Captain Mako.” The booming voice says plainly. Junkrat’s face remains still. “Crew, strip this rat down. Put a rag to cover him, and tie him up in the cell. We sail again in an hour.”

Junkrat’s eyes widen as members of the audience begin climbing down the balcony, approaching him slowly… Cornering him.

“I refuse! I said I _refuse!_ ” Junkrat shouts, but the captain never looks back. Soon, Junkrat feels the rough hands of the crew grabbing at his clothes, and he screams. He squirms and throws punches before a heavy object suddenly comes crashing down at his head.

The last thing Junkrat hears is that damned, booming voice of a monster.

“Welcome, Junkrat, to the Shark Head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ^-^ )/ Ahoy!
> 
> So, uhh, remember when I said the chapters would be more lengthy? I, uh, didn't expect it to be *this* lengthy LOL. Anyways, I really really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I was considering cutting it up into two chapters, but felt that this is all one particular scene and that it would flow better together.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I read all comments and try to respond the best I can. Low-key I wake up in the morning excited to check on any new comments / updates from you all about this! You all make my day. :)
> 
> I hope we're all ready for some Capt. Mako / Pirate Junkrat together-ness, now that they've finally formally met! Onwards we go~


	3. The Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock, knock.
> 
> Junkrat, you have a few visitors.

Dim, evening rays of sunlight shine through the small cracks in the wooden floorboards above Junkrat, illuminating the room too brightly in some areas and too dimly in others. His wrists are tied up tightly in front of him with thick rope. Uncomfortable, but relieved that his fingers are allowed to move freely. As he begins regaining consciousness, he touches his skin to check for any damages. A few cuts, a few bruises, but nothing too drastic. He notices that Sharkie was right regarding clothing. Junkrat can feel the cold air touch his entire body, except for his groin where a straggly piece of cloth covers his privates. Barbaric.

Junkrat blinks his eyes a few times, trying to better examine the darker parts of the room. As his eyes adjust, he begins to notice a set of ominous-looking stairs directly in front of him. He can’t seem to see where the stairs end, although he assumes there is a hatch at the top that opens up to the deck of the ship. With a sigh, he begins to stand up when he hears a metallic rattling beneath him.

“Well, ain’t that just dandy…” He mutters under his breath to himself as his eyes make out a silver cuff around his left, human leg that connects to the large, wooden beam behind. Junkrat notices that the chain has quite a bit of slack in it, and begins to slowly explore. 

First, the stairs. Junkrat was right with his assumption, with the very top of the staircase having none other than a very simple wooden hatch leading to the outside world. When he begins to put his chained, human leg on the first step however, the metal slack gives way and Junkrat is pulled back. Wouldn’t be a very good prisoner chain if he could just walk happily up the stairs now, would it?

Next, the room itself. It’s small, however still a few plenty of feet wide. Square-ish, probably an old, unused cellar. In the center of the room stands the large, wooden beam that chains Junkrat by the foot. In a nearby corner, Junkrat notices a small metal bucket, presumably for any bodily excretions. Nasty. Junkrat shakes his head and continues to roam the room when he reaches the right side wall. He feels a shiver run down his spine as he spies, locked behind a glass encasing, an array of intimidating tools hanging on the wall. A cat o’ nine tails flog, a whip, a knife, a hook. 

_Wonderful._

On the other side of the room, Junkrat can see the outline of a long table lined up by the wall. He shrugs and begins to turn away, assuming it to be just another showcasing of torture devices, when a small round object resting on the table catches his eye. 

It reminds him of home.

Junkrat walks closer, slowly, as his eyes begin to focus in on the object. A cannonball. A very small, very light looking cannonball. Junkrat picks it up carefully in both of his hands, letting his fingers dissect the smooth texture. His eyes begin to take in the rest of the table and he gasps as he recognizes what lays before him. Tar, gunpowder, oil, wires, needles, thin rope, a wet cloth, papyrus and ink. An entire assortment of ingredients needed to make special explosives. Well, minus any tool to create a fire that is. Besides that, the basics were all right there in front of him… Mocking him. 

A scowl forms on his lips.

“They want me to make ‘em some bombs, eh?” Junkrat tightens his grip on the cannonball before suddenly chucking it across the room, causing a loud _bang_ to echo throughout his cell. “Well, _fuck that!_ This damned ship can sink and I’ll sink with it!”

Junkrat’s eyes are on fire with a burning anger. He is a slave, but he will not give any favors to this ship. His bombs will be for himself, the Bloody Bomber, and no one else. Junkrat spies the wire laying on the table and snatches it up before sitting down, immediately beginning to attempt to saw away at the metal chain beneath him. It’s awkward, with the way his wrists are tied up, but Junkrat continues. He hopes for a spark, for a scrape on the metal, for anything. His fingers move back and forth quicker, the wire cutting more into his own skin than the chain beneath him. After a few more painful moments of fiddling with the wire, Junkrat finally cusses and throws the useless piece of metal across the room. His eyes soften, the fire subsiding as a wave of sadness drifts in.

The hatch opens.

The sudden sound jolts Junkrat to his feet, arms in front of him in preparation. He hisses as an outpour of light drowns the room. He can tell that it is definitely late evening now, however the light still too bright of a contrast for his eyes. He hears footsteps on the staircase and tenses up. The footsteps are heavy on the wooden stairs but not booming enough to be the captain’s, and not soft enough to be…

“Time ‘tah eat up, _Rat._ ” 

Strong, masculine, intimidating… Angry. Why is the voice so angry? Junkrat notices how sharply this new voice contrasts from the man in the red bandana earlier. Where the bandana man’s voice was cold and toying, this man’s is blunt and solid. There is something about the way he had spat out his nickname that unsettles Junkrat. It feels as if his name was foul… Disgusting. As if his name was tasted, savored like a fine delicacy, chewed slowly, and then spat out after all the flavor had long gone left.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit Mako… What kind of job is this…” The angry voice mumbles, clearly to himself as the man descends deeper into the cell.

Junkrat can feel fresh goosebumps sprout on his entire body as he catches his first glimpses of the unknown man. Shit, he’s larger than Junkrat thought. Junkrat proceeds to straighten his back, a poor attempt to appear more intimidating than he knows he truly is in the current scenario. Step by step, the visitor is coming into focus. Junkrat can see the thick, brown pants with a sabre hanging loosely on the man’s left side. He can see the layers of fancy dark-blue and black fabric covering his broad chest, far too fancy to be any regular crew member’s. He can see the large muscles, the red bandana covering his head, the surprisingly crimson eyes squinted into a glare, the scowl… Why is there that scowl? Why is he so damned angry?

“So. Yer Junkrat.” The man stands tall at the end of the staircase, just a few inches higher than Junkrat. Junkrat can feel the man’s eye examine every inch of his body. “The _'heart and soul'_ of that miserable piece of wood we sank today?”

Junkrat grits his teeth at the remembrance of the Bloody Bomber, but manages to paint a grin onto his face. He takes in a deep breath before exclaiming, “The one and only!” Junkrat throws his tied wrists up above his head and lets his fingers wiggle freely. He notices that the man is holding a large metal platter with a small bowl on top. 

“And, oh, oh!” Junkrat continues, “Let me guess who you are… Ho, hum… Hmm…”

Junkrat’s grin widens mischievously, “the chef?”

The man’s fist clenches the metal platter tightly before suddenly chucking it directly towards Junkrat’s head. Junkrat immediately ducks as particles of stinky fish, dried fruit, and various other dry edibles scatter across the room.

“Okay.” Junkrat says with a huff as he wipes away a piece of fish off from his chest, “So, not the chef.”

The man lets out a low growl, however does not take a step forward into the cell. “Idiot,” the man mutters before quickly roaring out, “I’m the damned First Mate of this bloody ship!”

“Serving food to some poor prisoner?” Junkrat snaps back immediately. “Kind of… Low there don’tcha think, First Mate?”

“Shut it.” The man commands, both fists clenched but eyes now on the ground. “Mako ain’t trustin’ no one else with you. Says you… Dangerous or somethin’… So, now I’m stuck feedin’ your scrawny ass.”

Junkrat silently chuckles at the new information. Prisoner or not, Junkrat can appreciate the sense of respect and security that he has on this ship. Having only ever worked for the Bloody Bomber, Junkrat never even knew that his name was so important. He remembers the rhyme the man had said earlier. How did people even know that the Bloody Bomber had melted the Steeled Schiff Fortress anyways? He was sure he had left no survivors. 

“But, let me tell you somethin’… _Rat._ ”

There is a shift in the air. Junkrat is immediately pulled away from his daydream upon hearing his name in that manner. The man’s eyes are focusing intently on Junkrat now, that bright, bloody, crimson red suddenly flaring up in color. Junkrat’s smile begins to fade as he feels an abrupt coldness fill the room. Something is off. 

“Lemme tell you a lil’ secret.”

Without warning, the First Mate takes a step forward and Junkrat’s face loses the smile entirely. Junkrat’s mind is racing to think of something to say, to revert back to just a few seconds ago when he had the upper hand… To when he was casually joking about the man’s profession… To when he didn’t feel the creeping fear that he feels now. What is happening?

“Mako is weak. He sees somethin’ in you.”

The man takes another step forward. Junkrat feels his chest becoming tight, the room losing light, the air heavy. Beads of sweat begin to form on Junkrat’s forehead. This man… Those eyes…

“But… I _Don’t._ ”

The man suddenly takes two steps forward and Junkrat instinctively takes a step backwards, but feels his foot touch the wooden wall behind him. A sign of fear. A mistake. The man notices this, and Junkrat swears he can see the glimmer of a faint smile appear on the man’s rough lips. Junkrat clenches his fist and tries to maintain his tall, upright posture but knows the façade of being seen as intimidating has long crashed down… Both of the men know it. Both of the men can _feel_ it… The true roles of the situation. 

As the looming man exits the pool of light from the open hatch on the other side of the room, Junkrat notices that the man’s body seems to almost fade away in the darkness. Everything about him seems to fade. That is, except for those scarlet eyes. They’re sinful… hypnotic… shark-like.

The eyes are so shark-like.

Junkrat’s heart is pounding, unsure of what will happen when abruptly the crimson eyes vanish and Junkrat loses track of the man in the darkness. Panicking, Junkrat opens his mouth to scream when suddenly he feels the cold steel of a sabre pushing against his throat. His body is slammed back to the wall behind him, and he feels his entire body freeze up. Fear entangling him completely still. Directly in front of him, a pair of dark, bloody red eyes slowly open. 

“ _I will find out what makes you tick, Rat._ ” The voice is a smooth, silky whisper. Almost impossible to have come from the same brute who stood opposite of Junkrat a few moments ago.

“ _Mako should’ve killed you earlier, but I won’t be makin’ the same mistake, ya hear?_ ” Junkrat can’t breathe, his eyes searching frantically in the darkness for anywhere else to look besides those captivating ruby-red eyes in front of him. 

“ _One mistake, and it’s over. One. Mistake._ ” Junkrat feels the sabre begin cutting into his throat, splitting the veins, and gushing out blood.

" **Vincent!** " A booming voice erupts in the distance.

The blade instantly draws back and Junkrat falls to his knees, gasping for air as his hands grip at his throat. Junkrat fumbles and frantically tries to stop the bleeding but, to his surprise, he feels nothing except for smooth skin on his throat. Not so much as a single scratch. The pain, the bleeding, the fear… Everything is calm once again. Junkrat turn his head upwards to carefully examine the demon before him, however only finds the man from before. Casual, almost-dull crimson eyes paired with a regular non-wispy body.

“Sorry, captain. We were just playin’ around.” Vincent’s voice is light, borderline friendly, as he turns to face the figure on the other side of the room. 

Junkrat, still panting while on his knees, follows suit. Slowly, he turns his head, knowing full well just who is standing at the bottom of the steps. 

Fuck.

There he is. Mako in all of his shark-masked glory. His right hand is strangely clenched into a fist, his left relaxed by his side. How long has he been standing there for? What did he see? Junkrat, as absurd as it sounds, feels a slight wave of relief enter his body as he stares at the masked giant. Chances are, Mako is not here to give him a nice big bear hug. However, at least he doesn’t have some crazy fucking red eyes… Or, at least Junkrat hopes he doesn’t. Junkrat silently chuckles to himself at that thought as Vincent begins leaving his side and walks towards the exit.

“Well, I better go check on the crew then.” Vincent casually states as he begins to pass Mako and head up the stairs. He raises his hand and waves a small good-bye to Mako, who doesn’t so much as move a finger, much less even turn to look, at Vincent as he makes his final exit. In one big hollow _thud_ , the hatch above the staircase closes and darkness fills the room. The only light being the few brave rays of light entering from the uneven floorboards above. 

Junkrat holds his breath as he awaits for the captain to speak. Except for the usual creaking of the floorboards, there is no sound. For a second, Junkrat wonders if Mako had left along with Vincent, but he shakes his head. He can feel it, even in the darkness he can feel something staring at him from across the room.

“Alright,” Junkrat finally sighs, becoming sick of the waiting game. “I’ll bite. What kind of fucked up voodoo magic do _you_ have, huh?”

No response. Junkrat rolls his eyes in the dark.

“Lemme guess: You can breathe underwater?”

Silence.

“You, uh, turn into a shark at night?”

Nothing.

“Oi, matey. Work with me here.”

Junkrat’s eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness in the room and he can start making out the faint outline of the shark mask. Junkrat was right, the mask is staring directly back at him and for some reason, this infuriates him. He grits his teeth, jealous of the sense of security behind a simple, stupid mask. Jealous of the ability to remain emotionless, remain feared, remain unseen.

“You should have just killed me, mate.” Junkrat finally says, low under his breath as his gaze falls to the floor. “Should have let me die with the Bloody Bomber.”

A rustling is heard and Junkrat instantly perks up, expecting a vocal response however only finding a raised arm from Mako. Junkrat frowns as he realizes that Mako is extending a finger and is pointing to… Of course. The ammu- _fucking_ -nition table. The one filled with all sorts of things to make that stupid bomb Mako wanted so badly. Mako suddenly begins to shift his weight and Junkrat’s eyes widen as he sees the captain begin to turn away and head up the stairs.

“Oi, is that it!? Yer just gonna leave like that!?”

Mako doesn’t stop. He puts a foot on the first step.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you, ya big oaf!”

Zip, nada, nothing. 

Junkrat feels his blood rushing quicker than ever. Who does this man think he is? The puppet master to a doll? The father to an obedient child? Junkrat grits his teeth harder, practicing boiling in hate. First Vincent, some crazy bloody red-eyed First Mate, and now Mako. Some fucking mute who calls himself a captain. Who the hell even runs this ship?

Junkrat clenches his fist as he jumps onto his feet, staring in rage at Mako’s back as the large man takes his third step on the staircase. His fourth step on the staircase. His fifth. Junkrat has never been ignored so heavily in his life before, and he absolutely despises it. Swallowing all saliva in his mouth, Junkrat grinds his teeth together and tightly parts his lips before finally saying, in the coldest tone he can manage, the two damned words he’s been holding back all this time:

“Mako _Rutledge_.”

Mako stops.

The air is still for a moment. The subtle sound of the creaking floorboards filling the room as the two men stand frozen in their positions.

“The captain of the ol’ infamous Shark Head,” Junkrat continues, making a point to loudly spit on the floor in front of him. He then proceeds to talk in a rather mocking tone, as if reciting a transcript he has heard one too many times. “The ship rumored to have painted the ocean red for an entire week. The ship rumored to be able to smell the blood and fear of its prey from five horizons away. The ship with the saying that: ' _When you see the Shark Head’s fin, abandon ship. Pray you can swim._ '” Another forceful spit loudly leaves Junkrat’s mouth.

Mako turns his head to face Junkrat, who is now standing in the center of the room beside the wooden pillar that he is chained against. Junkrat’s eyes are burning bright, housing uncontrollable flames of orange and yellow as he stares up at the fearsome captain before him. 

“Yeah, I know who you are, mate. I know just who the fuck you are, _Rutledge_.”

Mako takes a step downwards towards Junkrat, but Junkrat holds his ground, never letting go of his passionate gaze. He will not back down this time, he will not let this man control him. Junkrat takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Captain told me all about you… A member of the Fatal Four: Mako Rutledge of the Shark Head, Amélie Lacroix of the Poisonous Black Widow, Reinhardt Wilhelm of the Steeled Schiff Fortress, and Jack Morrison of the Bloody Bomber.”

“Junkrat.” Mako’s voice suddenly booms throughout the room. Junkrat pauses, caught by surprise at the sound of his name. He waits patiently for an explanation, but the silence drifting in the air implying clearly that none will be given. Mako takes another step downwards.

Junkrat sighs. “What?” He finally asks, eyeing Mako carefully as he descends further, rapidly closing the distance between the two men.

“Junkrat.” 

“Oi, what are you going on about… What about my na—”

“Of the Bloody Bomber. Junkrat, not Jack.”

Another moment of silence fills the room as Mako reaches the bottom floor, who slightly tilts his head, and thus his mask, downwards to look Junkrat in the eye.

“No… _No._ ” Junkrat growls back, shaking his head. “You get this straight right now, you drongo! I am _not_ the captain of the Bloody Bomber. I—”

“Your captain was weak.” 

“No, Jack is stronger than you in ways you will _never_ understa—”

“Jack did not defeat Reinhardt. It was _you_.”

“No, you’re wrong! It was the entire Bloody Bo—”

“It was _your_ bombs.”

“Jack was the reason my bombs even _worked_ on Reinhardt’s God-forsaken ship! He got us close enou—”

“Where is Jack now?”

“Close enough to the Steeled Sch—”

“Junkrat, where is Jack now?”

“S-Steeled Schiff that my bombs woul—”

“He’s dead.”

“W-would work and melt th—”

“He’s dead, Junkrat!”

“ _And I would gladly switch places with him in a heartbeat, Mako Rutledge!_ ”

Junkrat had screamed out the last sentence, roaring it out as loud as his poor voice could possibly handle. He let the words ring over and over inside the small cell as it echoed back and forth. He doesn’t know when he had started crying, but he can now feel the hot sensation of tears streaming down his cheeks. Junkrat squeezes his eyes, averting his gaze from the captain. Mako had not decided to interrupt him this time, and Junkrat decides to capitalize on the moment by continuing.

“Mako,” Junkrat says slowly, coldly, clearly. “I would gladly die for Jack any day of my filthy life.”

Mako is silent again, but Junkrat doesn’t care this time. He looks back up at glares directly into the shark mask in front of him.

“I made the weaponry, I made the bombs, I made the bloody destruction… But Jack created the ship and kept it alive. He kept _me_ alive. He is the captain, and that is his role!”

Junkrat, against every single one of his inner instincts, suddenly begins walking forward towards the towering behemoth. He stops as he stands just a few inches away from the mask. Junkrat then gets on his tip-toes and leans forward, abusing the fact that Mako can become very, very still. Raising himself up until his eyes can stare as closely as possible to the reflective glass circles on that damned shark mask, Junkrat whispers coolly to the captain in front of him.

“This loyalty, Mako Rutledge, is something you will never, _ever_ be granted from your crew. You’re not a leader, you’re not a captain… _You’re a monster._ ”

Swiftly, faster than Junkrat could even believe was possible from a man of his size, Mako pulls his right hand back, clenches it into a fist, and lands a solid blow right on Junkrat’s center chest. It sends Junkrat flying, all the way backwards to the other side of the cell. His back smashes against the wooden wall and Junkrat falls to the ground. Immediately, pain begins spiking into all of his senses as he starts coughing out blood. He is certain that the impact of the punch has broken a few ribs, if not all of them. Without saying another word, Mako turns around and stomps loudly up the stairs. He opens the hatch, exits, and then slams it shut so hard that Junkrat believes without a doubt that he has broken it.

Lying on the cold, disgusting floor, Junkrat begins to cry. Tears flowing down freely as he remembers Jack and his constant guidance, his constant admiration, his constant sense of care for him and the rest of the crew. Junkrat closes his eyes and heaves, sobbing loudly in hopes that Jack will come running into his room like that one night, an eternity ago. Slowly, the sobbing turns into crying, which then turns into a soft whimpering as his tear wells run dry.

Junkrat slowly curls up into a ball, wincing at the pain in his chest, and remains still. He closes his eyes and focuses on the gentle sway of the ship, the lullaby of the floorboards creaking around him, and the distant sound of the waves beneath him. He almost drifts off to a deep sleep when suddenly he hears a fumbling in the distance. Someone is opening the hatch, but Junkrat is too weak to care. If this visitor wants to beat him, so be it. If this visitor wants to torture him, let it happen. Junkrat’s entire body is too weak, too battered, too drained to move another muscle. Junkrat lets out a small sigh as he accepts the fate to come. 

That’s when he hears the soft footsteps descend the stairs.

“Junkrat?” A small voice asks, whispering into the darkness. “Junkrat, are you down here?”

Junkrat’s eyes open wide as he stares in disbelief across the room. There, a small boy is searching, squinting in the darkness to make out shapes. The boy looks so innocent, so pure… A beacon of hope. Could it be? 

“R… Rin?” Junkrat finally mutters out, surprising even himself at how weak his own voice is.

The boy’s head shoots towards the direction of Junkrat’s voice and, in the light, Junkrat can see that it is indeed him. The too-blue eyes, the short brown hair. Junkrat smiles weakly in the dark. 

“Junkrat!” Rin suddenly exclaims as his eyes lock onto the body on the floor. He runs towards him, instantly getting on his knees and placing a hand on Junkrat’s shoulder. “Junkrat, what did they do to you?”

“Naw, it’s nothin’ Rin,” Junkrat replies softly. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

Junkrat can tell his lie isn’t very convincing as he stares into Rin’s blue, worrying eyes which are rapidly searching in the dark for any visible cuts or bruises on his body.

“I… I’m doing okay,” Rin finally stammers softly. “They have a little library here… In the bottom of the ship… I found a book about the sky there and have been reading it ever since… Junkrat, I think…” 

Rin pauses. Junkrat can hear the faint sound of a gulp from Rin’s throat. He notices the blue eyes of the boy grow distant as a wave of deep sadness can be seen entering the irises.

“I think I can make Kesad proud.”

Junkrat’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to reply but Rin softly presses a finger over Junkrat’s lips.

“I can’t stay for long, Junkrat… I need to leave soon… But, but here.”

Rin reaches his right hand behind him and unties a bulging piece of cloth from his belt. Unravelling it, Junkrat feels his heart drop as he sees a large biscuit, a few pieces of freshly cooked fish, and a wide assortment of various salted meats.

“Rin…” Junkrat says weakly, thinking of the right words to say in the situation. Suddenly, Rin shifts and begins to stand up. Junkrat is about to contest when Rin’s voice cuts him off.

“I need to go, Junkrat… I can’t be seen here…” Rin begins to back away, pausing for a second for a final look at Junkrat. “Please, be safe and… Don’t forget about the Bloody Bomber, okay?”

Before Junkrat can even reply, Rin runs up the stairs and closes the hatch behind him silently. Just like that, Junkrat is alone again in the darkness. He looks down, grabs one of the salted meats, and begins chewing on it silently as he returns into his curled ball position. Slowly, his eyelids begin to grow heavier and heavier as his body relaxes on the cold floor beneath him.

“I won’t, Rin.” Junkrat finally whispers to himself weakly, “I will never forget about the Bloody Bomber.”

Junkrat lets out a final, lengthy sigh as he feels his body begin to drift away. For the first time in what feels like forever, Junkrat falls into a deep sleep… Listening to the familiar sounds of the rocking of a ship, the creaking of the floorboards, the splashing of faraway waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ^-^ )/ Ahoy!
> 
> Believe it or not, this chapter is longer than the previous one! Another lengthy chapter, and another huge thank you from me to you for taking the time to read it. I truly hope you enjoyed reading about the three visitors in this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing about them!
> 
> Also, welcome to name dropping central! Reinhardt, Amélie, Jack... Even with the introduction of fictional characters such as Kesad, Rin, and Vincent, this is still an Overwatch fanfic at heart :) However, I am choosing to leave the actual Overwatch characters for more... _Crucial_ roles in the story that may or may not happen later on (gasp!). So sit tight! While Reinhardt and Jack seem to be out of the picture, there might be a certain someone coming soon...!
> 
> Lastly, I'm extremely happy to have reached this point in the story. Most of the background information, the scenery, and the setting is now all set in place! This is truly a milestone chapter, and I can't wait to share with you all what happens next. From the bottom of my heart, thank you again for reading and be sure to leave a comment! They truly make my day every time I read them :)
> 
> Onwards, onwards, and onwards we go!

**Author's Note:**

> Ahoy! I just want to take this end note opportunity to give a warm thank you to... Well, you! For taking the time to read and, hopefully, enjoy this story. I do this completely for the fun, the kudos, and the amazing comments you all share with me. They truly, truly, brighten my day up and I couldn't be more honored! 
> 
> If you would like to connect further with me outside of AO3, I've created a (and am still very new to...) tumblr at: kevkevwritings.  
> In addition, if you'd like to be the Roadie to my Junkrat (or vice versa...!), my battletag for Overwatch is: MrKevKev#1916. I'd love to play with you!  
> And lastly, I am always on Discord. Feel free to add me there too, if you'd like to say hi! My discord tag is: MrKevKev#5461.
> 
> :) Thank you again for joining me for this ride. Let's get sea-sick together.


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